


harder better faster stronger

by little_alien_duck, snaredrum



Series: harder better faster stronger [1]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Domestic, Found Family, No Romance As of Yet, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, baudelaires and quagmires adjusting to a normal life, biological family is OUT found family is IN, but none of them are straight!, but not too much it's just kinda there, except that larry is alive because we just really wanted him back, implied violet snicket, netflix canon compliant, recovery!!! it's good, this will essentially be a collection of related but not necessarily chronological one shots, weird uncle lemony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-13 17:51:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_alien_duck/pseuds/little_alien_duck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snaredrum/pseuds/snaredrum
Summary: Violet comes of age, and the Baudelaires and Quagmires buy a house together.Stories of seven children readjusting to a world that forgot them.





	1. and i'm led to the house i built

**Author's Note:**

> hello! we are two friends who were fortunate enough to have the same hyperfixation at the same time, so here we are. this is our exposition chapter; the rest will be various scenes in their lives from here on out. this is following the netflix canon, so apologies for any and all book canon discrepancies.

It was an odd sensation, Violet thought, to return to a place she had once been to ask for help, now knowing that she didn’t need it. She had long ago come to see Mr. Poe as Mulctuary Money Management itself; he was its physical representation. The sole time she’d been there, just after she and her siblings had been placed in the custody of Count Olaf, she hadn’t paid much attention to the decor, being focused only on their unfortunate situation. As she stood in Mr. Poe’s office she thought it fit him perfectly: white and clinical, all signs of personality meticulously stripped away and replaced with a stark professional atmosphere; narrow, claustrophobia-inducing walls; his desk at the far end of the long room, perfect for instilling dread as they walked toward him. 

Sunny stood to Violet’s left, holding her hand and very politely pretending not to notice how sweaty her sister’s palm was, and Klaus was on Sunny’s other side, holding Beatrice. Jacquelyn Sciezka stood to Violet’s right. Since the Baudelaires’ return to the city, she had given them considerable freedom. They had shown little interest in her help, and she soon realized that if they needed assistance, they would contact her first. She and Larry Your-Waiter (who was currently waiting at a cafe with the Quagmire triplets down the street) had seemed unsurprised to receive the children’s call, considering the date, and jumped at the chance to help them. 

“Hello, Baudelaires!” Mr. Poe greeted far too warmly, as if he were reconnecting with old acquaintances. Before he could get their full name out he dissolved into a coughing fit; Violet’s hand (right, not left, she would never hurt Sunny) clenched into a tight fist. 

As soon as he recovered, before he had time to say anything else, Violet spoke. “It’s my birthday. I’m eighteen.” 

“Yes, I know and I’m delighted,” Mr. Poe said, his glazed over grin wide. 

This was not what the Baudelaires had expected him to say. 

“Sunny coming of age means that you are no longer the responsibility of Mulctuary Money Management, and quite frankly Baudelaires, your case has caused me quite a bit of trouble,” he continued, completely oblivious to their stunned faces. 

“It’s Violet who’s coming of age, not Sunny,” Klaus interjected. He had forgotten how effortlessly insufferable Mr. Poe was.  

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Mr. Poe replied, gesturing to Violet.

There was a pause that seemed exhaustingly long in which the only sound was a very loud swallow from Mr. Poe. He continued to smile to them, instead of saying anything in a way which implied that he had momentarily forgotten the reason for their visit. 

“The Baudelaires’ fortune, Mr. Poe,” Jacquelyn said sharply. Her tone had a long suffering note in it, and the Baudelaires felt a surge of sympathy for her. No one should have to spend all of their time with Mr. Poe and his coughing and unbelievably faulty memory. 

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Poe said, pulling out a mound of files which he then went on to explain in excruciating detail. 

The Baudelaires heard more about interest rates and trusts than they had ever wanted to know as Mr. Poe droned on and on. During this time their anxiety did not lessen. This fortune, which would allow them to live in a house with all their own (excepting the Quagmires of course) and give them the freedom to stop working if they didn’t feel like, had also been a source of misery in their lives for a very long time. 

Violet tapped her feet on the hard tile floor. Klaus readjusted the position of a squirming Beatrice in his arms. Sunny fidgeted. 

Mr. Poe was still talking. 

His words didn’t quite register, the way that it is impossible to understand what adults in Peanuts cartoons are saying. They zoned back in with a laser focus, however, at his final words:

“- in conclusion, I am happy to announce that you are the sole owner of the Baudelaire fortune,” he said with a measured tone of professional congratulation. He directed his words at Violet. 

She didn’t bother to correct him. 

Violet took the offered documents from his hands. Klaus had already turned to leave when Mr. Poe added, “And don’t forget, Mulctuary Money Management is always available for you to reach during office hours on weekdays!” 

All four Baudelaires, including young Beatrice who agreed with her guardians even if she didn’t know what was going on, rolled their eyes in unison as they made their way toward the door without looking back. Alternately, Jacquelyn refused to break eye contact as she walked backwards towards the door. When she reached her desk, she called back, “Mr. Poe, given that it’s Arbor Day for Secretaries, I will be taking the rest of the afternoon off.” 

Mr. Poe replied with a tone of more genuine apology than the Baudelaires had ever heard him use. “Oh yes of course, I’m sorry I didn’t remember sooner. Have a wonderful day, Jacquelyn. I must say you’re a much better secretary than the woman I had employed in your absence.” 

As the Baudelaires and Jacquelyn got out the door, their second least favorite member of the Poe family entered. Eleanora Poe strutted in, her handbag swinging, and shrieked, “Baudelaire orphans at Mulctuary Money Management, wait until the readers of the Daily Punctilio hear about this!” 

The door to Mr. Poe’s office clattered shut behind her, and the Baudelaires were alone with Jacquelyn in the lobby.

Jacquelyn turned to them with characteristic briskness. “Alright Baudelaires, let’s go meet the Quagmires and Larry and we’ll go to the real estate office.”

As the Baudelaires stepped out into the open air of the street, they felt as if some part of their identity was gone. It was a weight that had been with them so long they didn’t know how to function without it. It had been there since the day on Briny Beach, when Mr. Poe informed them that they were orphans. For the first time since that day, they had a real, tangible sense of security. They knew where they were going to live, had been planning on it for months, and they had the Quagmires and each other; they didn’t have to rely on anyone else for their safety. 

The sensation was odd. But wholly welcome.

 

***  
  


Inside the cafe down the street, Isadora Quagmire was writing couplets about all of the other people drinking coffee or reading the newspaper or eating muffins to distract both herself and her siblings. 

Larry, bless his heart, was doing his best to keep their minds occupied. When they had first walked in, he had offered to get the triplets hot chocolate; they had had to stop him from jumping behind the counter and preparing the drinks himself. Old habits die hard, Isadora supposed. Now Larry was content with asking them if they needed another every two minutes.

Neither Duncan nor Quigley was listening to their sister. Duncan had three different newspapers open, and his head was swiveling back and forth between all three. Quigley was making a tower out of creamers that was precariously close to toppling over.

All three of them snapped around every time the bell about the door jingled. For the first thirteen times it was not the Baudelaires. 

The fourteenth time the bell jingled the Baudelaires stood in the doorway, smiles on their faces. 

“We’ve got it,” Violet said, and she sounded more relieved than the Quagmires had ever heard her.

 

 

***

 

For the past several months, the Baudelaires and the Quagmires had been scoping out a house. It had to have space for a library and an inventing studio and have a large kitchen. It had to be big enough for them to all have their own space but not so big that they were ever very far away from each other. The area the house was in was similar to the place their houses had once stood, before the fires and the many unfortunate years, but it wasn’t the same neighborhood. They couldn’t go back there. 

Violet turned the key they had picked up from the real estate agent in the door of the house.  _ Their _ house. The front hall was spacious and well lit but stark, lacking the furnishings that give a home character. From the door she could see into the empty living room, and down the hallway she knew led into the kitchen.

The rest of her extended family walked after her into the house, looking around in an almost reverent awe. Klaus spoke up before she could:

“It’s perfect.”

Jacquelyn and Larry exchanged a smile from where they stood on the porch, just beyond the doorway. Turning to the group with a raised eyebrow, Jacquelyn asked, “Do you need any help settling in? Larry and I are more than willing to accompany you on a shopping trip if you would like.”

Violet stepped forward. “Thank you very much, but we will be fine for the rest of the night. Would you be able to help us shop for furniture tomorrow?” She spoke in a polite and guarded tone, but Jacquelyn and Larry knew that them even asking them for help was progress. 

“Of course. See you tomorrow, Baudelaires, Quagmires.”

The adults turned and left, and Duncan closed the door behind them. The seven of them stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other with bated breath. 

“We have a house!” Quigley broke the stillness in the air, and the rest of them relaxed, finally letting themselves believe that this was real and really happening and that for the first time in a long, long time stability could return to their lives. 

They hadn’t yet gone grocery shopping, so Violet called for take out (after nearly half an hour of arguing over restaurants) as the rest of them set up their sleeping bags on the floor of the living room. 

They all had their own rooms – the house had enough rooms for there to still be extras even with all of them sleeping in one of their own. 

But they didn’t want to be alone that night. Not only did they not yet have real beds (something they had all been looking forward to once they acquired the Baudelaire fortune), but they had all gotten used to sleeping together in cramped rooms which were never quite safe enough. Even with Olaf dead the world,  _ their  _ world _ ,  _ was dangerous, and they had to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. They knew this house was safer than any place they’d been in a long time, but they weren’t yet ready to separate, not so soon. 

Sunny had roped them all into a game of poker by the time the food arrived. Klaus, as usual, was losing badly. He and Duncan had the worst poker faces and generally took turns losing the jelly beans on which they would bet. 

“Oh come on,” Klaus said, as he lost yet another hand, and Sunny took yet more of his jelly beans. 

Sunny just smiled at him, absolutely no sympathy in her eyes. 

“Do you need Beatrice to help you, Klaus?” Duncan asked, overjoyed at the chance to tease someone else for losing. 

Beatrice, being three years old, had yet to grasp the game of poker, and instead of playing, would “help” one of her guardians. Usually this meant encouraging them to make moves that were not strategically sound. 

Currently, Beatrice was very content to sit in Duncan’s lap, playing with her toy bat and occasionally informing the rest of them which cards Duncan had, unaware of why this might not be helpful to him. 

“This is a seven!” she declared proudly, pointing to one of his cards. Duncan just sighed. 

“Yes, it is, very good,” he deadpanned. 

The rest of them were trying not to laugh, but they weren’t trying very hard. 

Fortunately for Duncan, he was saved by the arrival of the food.

“I’ll get it,” he said, standing up without putting Beatrice down. 

Isadora and Quigley exchanged a look before saying, “We’ll go with you,” and following him down the hall. By that point, the Baudelaires had decided that they should come too, and then the delivery man was very confused as to why seven people, teenagers and two toddlers, met him at the door.

The group ate (Sunny pairing her Chinese food with a healthy serving of jelly beans), laughing and joking and generally feeling more like kids than they had in a long time. Slowly, the gaps in their conversation became longer, their yawns became more frequent and eyelids beginning to droop. The emotional toll of the day was large, and they were tired.

They were all lying in their sleeping bags, the only light a hazy yellow from the streetlamp outside the window when Klaus spoke. 

“We’re safe, finally. There’s no more Olaf or Esme or henchpeople coming to hurt us. We can live here and not have to worry about where our next meal is coming from or if we’ll have to leave in a week. We’re safe.” 

He spoke like he almost didn’t believe it, but maybe if he said it, he could convince himself.

“And we’re together,” Isadora said, looking over to her brothers lying side by side.  

“We are,” they could hear the smile in Sunny’s voice. “Goodnight. Love you.” 

There was a chorus of whispered “I love you too”s and then silence, the only sound their own breath. 

The others fell asleep but Violet did not. She knew they were safe. She knew that this house had a well equipped security system and a wrought iron gate menacing enough to keep anyone unsavory out. She knew that Olaf was dead and no longer in any position to be hunting them down. 

She couldn’t sleep anyway. There was one more thing she needed to do. 

Violet stood up slowly, careful not to make too much noise. She grabbed her backpack from its place along the wall and snuck over to the front door. All week she had been working on a project for the new house, and she wanted to use this moment of peace to install it. 

She had just finished screwing the lock in place when she heard a small voice ask, “What are you doing?”

She started, not expecting the interruption, and spun around to see Beatrice standing there, holding her stuffed bat by the wing with one hand and rubbing her eye with the other. 

Violet smiled and held out her hand to lead Beatrice back to bed. “Nothing. It’s just a precaution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! we tried to proofread each other, but if we made any mistakes please let us know! lemony will be present later - we'll have a time skip to when beatrice is ten, and that's when he'll be introduced. 
> 
> despite us both being college sophomores, one of us writes like a 70 year old lady! feel free to guess which one. 
> 
> \- snaredrum, little_alien_duck


	2. i've been waiting to smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter two! these are the establishing chapters of the world - from here on out, we're planning on having one shots that will most likely jump around chronologically. we'll put them in a series that will also be called harder better faster stronger. also, we forgot to say last chapter that if all goes according to plan, the title will make sense eventually. we hope. anyway, enjoy!

The next day brought a moment the group had been looking forward to for about a year: quitting their jobs. None of them had jobs that they wanted. They had jobs because ever since Jacquelyn had contacted Hector to let him know the Baudelaires had returned to the city and the Quagmires asked to be reunited with them, there had been seven of them with no other source of income. They needed to eat and keep a roof over their heads.

So they had gotten the only kind of jobs available for minors which meant a lot of waiting tables and cleaning up other people’s messes and all sorts of other unpleasant tasks. Violet, being both the oldest and having a practical skill set, had gotten a job at a local mechanic’s. Within weeks she had become their most valuable employee, and her income was steady. However, fixing car engines was not the same as inventing; Violet wanted to spend her time inventing.

Before Jacquelyn and Larry Your-Waiter accompanied them on their shopping trip, the group went to each of their places of employment in what they referred to as their farewell tour. Klaus gave a righteous speech to a baffled manager; Isadora left a rhyming letter of resignation; Duncan was very polite as he informed the grocery store manager that he was quitting. Quigley slammed open the door of the coffee shop and shouted “I’m out!” before throwing a glass on the floor that apparently he had brought from home (he was excited about the idea of causing a scene, but didn’t want to cause anyone else property damage) before Duncan and Isadora could stop him. Violet struggled to convince her employer that yes, she actually was quitting; once he realized she meant it, he begged her to stay.

“That was unpleasant,” Duncan said as they stood outside the mechanic’s shop.

“I think he’s still crying,” Klaus said, peering through the window.  

“He’ll get over it,” Violet replied, already walking away.

“We could always send Quigley in there to distract him. Here, I’ll go with him.” Klaus grabbed Sunny’s arm when she turned to head back in and both Duncan and Isadora had to grab Quigley.

“No, we’re going to go buy actual furniture with Jacquelyn and Larry now,” Duncan said.

Shopping was an hours long endeavor, made only longer by extensive arguments over couches and several heartstopping minutes of panic when they realized Duncan was missing (he had gotten distracted by the desk section and wandered off). At the end of the day they had beds which needed to be assembled and the fiercely contested couch.

Violet offered to put together the beds, which seemed like a good idea until Klaus returned to her room after an hour and saw that her own looked nothing like the display.

“Violet, are you planning on assembling all the beds this way?” he asked with a note of strained curiosity from the doorway.

“This is a much more efficient design,” Violet said instead of answering the question her brother had asked.  

Klaus took that as a yes.

He returned to the kitchen where the others were preparing dinner under Sunny’s watchful supervision. “I have a conundrum. Violet has decided to...get inventive, in how she assembles the beds, but I would rather have my loft bed look as advertised. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, though.”

“You could always take her ribbons,” Isadora joked as she spooned the mashed potatoes into a serving bowl. “She can’t think straight without them.”

Duncan laughed; Klaus stammered. Sunny cut both of them off as she called everyone in for dinner.

By the time Quigley snuck back into the kitchen, nobody had realized he had left in the first place.

  
***  


There was a conversation that they needed to have which none of them were bringing up. They weren’t working anymore. The most logical course of action would be for them to go back to school. There was still time to register, but school would be starting soon, so they needed to make a decision.

“I can’t go,” Violet said. “I’m too old. Besides, someone needs to stay home and look after Beatrice. And I’m going to be inventing all the time; there’s nothing teachers have to say about that that I don’t already know.” She didn’t let any sadness creep into her voice. Violet regretted the loss of that element of her childhood, but the others didn’t need to worry about her.

Klaus nodded. He could sense some discomfort, but he wouldn’t push her into talking about it in front of everyone. “I’ll be a sophomore. And you all,” he directed his gaze to the Quagmires, “will be juniors. We should go to the same high school,” he added, as if there was ever any doubt they would. But Klaus liked to be thorough, and he liked reassurance.

“Of course.” Duncan met his eyes with a smile.

“I don’t have to go to school right?” Sunny asked, hoping that if she said it with enough confidence, her siblings would buy it.

“Yes you do,” Violet and Klaus said at the same time.

“Of course you have to go to school, Sunny, you need to get an education,” Klaus continued.

“But I never went to school before!”

Klaus and Violet exchanged a look. “You were an infant,” said Violet.

Sunny slumped in her chair. “I don’t see why that matters, I know enough things already.”

“You can never know enough things,” Klaus said, looking scandalized at the thought.

“And what about Beatrice? Does she have to go to school?” Sunny asked.

Isadora put her head in her arms on the table; Duncan hid his face with his hand; Quigley looked on with unmasked delight. Duncan’s composure was the first to break, and he burst out laughing, with both his siblings following suit.

“Oh so you think this is funny? I’ll remind you who made dinner,” Sunny said, which did not stop them from laughing at all.

Beatrice reached out her hand to grab at Sunny’s. “Stop being mean!” she said with the strongest glare a toddler could give.

Sunny beamed. “See? She gets it. Bea is three years old and smarter than all of you.”

That got Violet and Klaus to laugh. Sunny tried to keep her accusatory look in place, but by this point even she was beginning to smile because, after all, the discussion was pretty funny.

“Fine, I’ll go to school, but I want to go to the same school as the rest of you,” Sunny said, “if I have to go to a different school then Bea and I are going on strike.”

“What does that even mean?” Violet asked warily though she hadn’t entirely stopped laughing yet.

“You don’t want to find out,” Sunny warned.

“I’ve done some research and there’s a school we could all go to, I think it’s called Prufrock Prep-” Quigley started to say, before realizing that the rest of them had all fallen quiet.

“Don’t beat that dead horse,” Violet mumbled, causing the rest of them to snicker.

“Quigley, do you remember how we told you about you the horrible boarding school we went to when we were separated?” Isadora asked slowly.

A look of realization crossed his face, his eyes opened wide, his eyebrows shooting up.

“I forgot the name but it wouldn’t happen to have been Prufrock Prep would it?” he asked.

“Yeah, it would,” Duncan said, patting his brother on the arm.     

They discussed applications; all of them were performing at least a grade above their level when they were in school, so going back into their proper grade would be possible. The group decided to do research on schools in the area and make a decision by the end of the week (with Prufrock firmly off the table).

Sunny served dessert – key lime pie she had made herself – and Violet was the first to jump up after they ate. As soon as she had finished clearing her own place, she ran off the finish the beds as they rest retreated to the still mostly empty library. Klaus and the Quagmires had just opened their books (or in Quigley’s case, his map) and Sunny had just begun to try to teach Beatrice how to play poker when they heard the heavy footsteps of Violet running down the hall.

“WHO TOOK IT?” she yelled as she burst through the door.

They all jumped at the sudden noise, including Violet herself who hadn’t realized how loud she was or how hard she had flung the door. There was a tense beat as they all looked at her in fear.

She took a deep breath. She wanted to apologize, but she had to deal with her own panic first. “My ribbon is gone. I swear I had it before dinner. Did one of you take it?” Her voice shook but her words were clipped – she didn’t want to scare them anymore than she already had. The guilt would hit her like a train later, she knew, but she was too anxious to think about that right now.

Klaus held his hand out in a placating gesture. “I swear, none of us took it. I would never do that.”

At that moment, his eyes fell on Quigley who looked like he was trying to leave the room as quickly and discreetly as possible.

“Wait.”

Violet’s gaze followed her brother’s, landing on Quigley.

“Did you take it, Quagmire?”

“There are three of us,” Isadora protested. Violet ignored her.

“I…” Quigley looked around the room, giving a sheepish laugh. “I don’t even know what a ribbon is.”

Klaus glared at him. “Just give it back!”

Quigley looked at him with wide eyes, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out Violet’s ribbon. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I just – it was Isadora’s idea anyway –”

“It was not! What are you even talking about?” Isadora shot back.

“Before dinner! You said we should take her ribbon because she can’t think straight without it.”

“That was a joke! I didn’t mean we should actually –”

Violet interrupted her, voice colder than she meant it to be. “It’s true. I can’t.” She took the ribbon from Quigley’s hand.

“Violet, I am so sorry. I didn’t think, I just didn’t...I’m sorry.” Quigley was looking down, eyes flicking back up to her face, and as Violet’s anger left her she was able to see just how badly she scared them. Guilt filled her entire chest, like a large and very painful weight had been placed there.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, you didn’t deserve that, I just got…” her voice broke. “I just got freaked out. I thought it was there, and it wasn’t, and it’s something I – I rely on. You didn’t know.” She looked around at everyone. They were all tense, Duncan half hiding behind the book he was reading, and Beatrice and Sunny still frozen in the middle of their poker game; both Isadora and Klaus were more composed but only slightly. “I’m sorry.” She swallowed. “I’ll...I’m going to go to bed.”

Quigley stepped forward. “No! It’s okay, really, I forgive you.” Everyone else nodded.

“Are you sure?”

There was a chorus of “yes”’s and “of course”’s. Violet relaxed; she knew they wouldn’t lie to her about that. Klaus made room for her on the couch and beckoned her over. He silently handed her a book she had bought the other day on mechanical engineering as she sat down. Sunny and Beatrice moved over to sit on the floor in front of the couch, and Quigley sat on Violet’s other side.

They read in a content silence for several minutes before Violet realized something. “Wait, why did you joke about taking my ribbons in the first place?”

Klaus coughed. “We, um. It’s the beds. Do you think you could...follow the instructions more closely?”

She looked at him blankly. “What?”

He sat up straighter and adjusted his glasses. “I would prefer my bed to look like the intended design, is all.”

Violet looked around the room. With Klaus having broached the subject, the rest felt confident in telling her they felt the same.

She smiled. “I suppose I can make the accommodations, even if the designs are suboptimal.”

Violet spent the rest of the night assembling the beds (strictly by the book, despite there being so many areas for improvement). By the time she returned to the library to inform the rest that their rooms were ready, the rest of them had fallen asleep either curled up on the couch or sprawled on the floor, Klaus and Duncan still clutching their books.

Violet returned to the room a few moments later, carrying a stack of blankets which she placed over the rest of them. Carefully, she removed Klaus’s glasses and placed them on the side table, before snuggling next to him on the couch.

The beds could wait until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: one of the hardest parts to write was just deciding what food they had at dinner. an actual conversation:  
> 1: what do people eat?  
> 2, in a severe tone: i live entirely off of dinosaur chicken nuggets  
> feel free to guess who said what. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! our spring break is coming up this week, and the two of us will be on a road trip (along with a wonderfully patient, long-suffering friend of ours) so hopefully we'll have more stuff soon! 
> 
> "violet baudelaire is oppressed. violet baudelaire rights!" 
> 
> \- snaredrum, little_alien_duck


End file.
